


The Smiling Man

by Adrian_Crevan



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Horror, Other, POV First Person, Scary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrian_Crevan/pseuds/Adrian_Crevan





	The Smiling Man

_Well . . . I’m not the best storyteller. But I just have to tell someone, someone I know will believe me. Anyone else would think I was lying or insane. I . . . I know you will believe me, though. You have to. Or It will get you.  
I mean . . . I guess I should start at the beginning, right? Right . . . _

It was just past midnight. I had been woken up by a nightmare that I couldn’t quite remember now that I was awake. I’d gone outside for some fresh air, and the cool September air did indeed soothe my nerves. I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, savoring the rich scent of the surrounding forest. A I’d always loved living in a rural area; I love nature, so living surrounded by it like that was a dream come true. I also liked being alone, so the isolation from other people was a bonus in my eyes.  
A breeze ruffled my hair and I reached up to run a hand through it, yawning as I did so. I was significantly more relaxed than I had been before I came outside. I decided to go back to sleep, almost reluctantly leaving the nature behind as I stepped through the door that I’d left open when I came out.  
Not too long after, I woke up a second time. I rubbed at my eyes as I stared at my digital clock, the bright green display announcing that it was 1:23 in the morning. I groaned and rolled over in bed, intent on going back to sleep when I heard something outside. To my tired ears, it sounded as if something was digging in my trash bins outside. Slightly annoyed, I wrote it off as a raccoon or an opossum, and told myself I’d just have to clean the trash up in the morning. Just as I was about to fall back into sleep’s warm embrace, I heard another sound: clicking. I sat up in bed and strained my ears for the strange noise. It sounded as if someone were repeatedly clicking their tongue, although this was far too loud to be done by any person. I quietly got out of bed, driven by curiosity to find out where it was coming from, and made my way to the front door. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I swung it open and stepped out to confront whatever was making the noise. I glanced around quickly, and then . . . nothing.  
I realized that the clicking had ceased as soon as I’d stepped outside. Looking around, I began to feel uneasy. I felt that something else was . . . off. It wasn’t until I tried to relax like usual that I realized that there was no sound coming from the nature that surrounded me. No birds were singing, no animals scurrying up trees and along the forest floor. No wind came to ruffle the leaves in the trees. I strained my ears in vain; all was silent except for my own breathing. I think only reason I didn’t immediately panic, is because I was mostly filled with confusion rather than fear. I ended up cautiously going back inside, closing and locking the door behind me. I went back to bed and fell asleep convincing myself I was just half-asleep, and still partially dreaming.  
It felt like only a few seconds had passed before I woke up yet again. This time, I found that I was lying flat on my back and could not move a muscle. I could, however, open my eyes, which I did. I regretted the action immediately.  
Standing next to my bed and leaning over me, there was a man; or perhaps I should use the term . . . “creature”. It looked to be about seven feet tall from my point of view, and extremely thin. Its arms appeared to be too long for its body, its skeletal fingers laced together in front of its chest. It was wearing a suit, and seemed to be emanating a sort of light from its whole body. But none of this is what made me realize that I could not scream, either. It was the face, leaning over my own face. There was no hair falling into this face; only sallow, pale skin, stretched over the skull. Its red eyes appeared to have no lids, and they simply stared out of their sockets, seeming to bore straight into my soul. It had no nose. And the smile–oh, the smile. Its grin stretched much larger than any human’s, sharp teeth lining its lipless mouth.  
For what felt like an hour (though in reality was only a few seconds), it simply stood there, staring at me and grinning that inhuman grin as I fought in vain to scream or jump out of bed and run away. Then, it leaned down further, until its face was inches away from my own. Its hands lowered, clamping down on my shoulders with surprising strength for its stature. Its touch was freezing cold, as if it were made of ice. It continued grinning down at me, making not one sound. I felt my death approaching, and all I could do was to continue staring up at this creature above me.  
Just when I thought all was lost, and I was doomed to be prey to this creature, a ray of sunlight came through my window; the creature made its first sound, which was an ear-shattering screech, and let go of my shoulders. It turned and fled from my bedside, disappearing just as it came to my bedroom door. No dramatic puff of smoke, or sparkles, or turning into dust. It just ceased to exist, leaving no evidence of its presence. And finally, I could move and make sound; I immediately sat bolt upright in bed and screamed. I didn’t stop screaming for a long time.  
When my vocal cords could scream no more, I managed to calm myself down. I got out of bed, ran to the front door, and tested the knob. It was still locked, still just as I’d left it. I searched through the house but could find no evidence of a break-in. I took a deep breath. Maybe it had all been a dream, after all. But . . . It’d felt so real. I tried to write it off as simply a case of sleep paralysis, which although I’d never had that happen to me before, seemed to be the most logical explanation.  
But I knew. I knew deep down that what had happened was real, and not just a figment of my imagination. I have since moved out of the rural area, and have never encountered firsthand what I call ‘The Smiling Man’ ever again, though it’s a bit strange . . .  
Everyone that I told about The Smiling Man didn’t believe me; and they have since all died in their sleep.

I sure hope you believe me.


End file.
